


Superstition ain’t the way

by OtterAndTerrier



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Gen, HanLeia Halloween Promptathon 2017, HanLeiaSecretSanta Halloween Challenge, Pre-ESB, Pre-Relationship, Superstitions, mission together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 15:47:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12585236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OtterAndTerrier/pseuds/OtterAndTerrier
Summary: Han Solo was not a superstitious man. Yet it was now the third time he spotted the black Tooka crossing Leia’s path… right before something bad happened.Written for the2017 HanLeia Halloween Promptathonhosted by hanleiasecretsanta on Tumblr.





	Superstition ain’t the way

**Author's Note:**

> Double Treat!
> 
> **"On a mission to provide aid to Lothal in the aftermath of the Rebels’ victory, a black Loth-cat keeps crossing Leia’s path, leading Han to wonder at a Corellian superstition he heard as a child."**
> 
> **“But, Leia, it’s BAD LUCK not to take in a Tooka that chooses you! Especially if it’s a black one!”**
> 
> Many thanks to **amilynh** and **GCFB/imnothere24** for helping me brainstorm and letting me borrow some ideas, and to **alderaanallday** for the quick beta! This is the backstory mentioned in [Something's electric in your blood](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12228102), and there's an Easter egg for Rebels fans. Please review if you read!

Han Solo was not a superstitious man. That was a fact. His life wasn’t ruled by luck, destiny or old folks’ tales. Even less by small, furry, flea-ridden critters.

Yet it was now the third time he spotted the black Tooka crossing Leia’s path… right before something _bad_ happened.

They successfully discharged the medical supplies they had come to deliver to the city of Kothal, home to a long-enduring rebel cell, and spread word of the Alliance’s victory against the Death Star—something the Empire was desperate to conceal. Leia had also managed to procure a datacard with incredibly valuable information about an Imperial weapons factory on Cymoon 1. It had all been going well, against the worst of Han’s predictions.

Then, as they had been making their way through the city to reach the Falcon’s hiding place, where Chewie awaited, a little black Tooka native to Lothal jumped over Han’s head and sprinted across Leia’s path. That’s when it had started raining.

It was a drizzle, at first, but they had hurried their pace, pulling their cloaks low over their faces—it worked to their advantage, when you thought of it: nobody would stop and ask for an identification in this weather, would they?

Hint: Imperials would, and had.

Leia hadn’t seen the stormtrooper as she and Han trotted through the city. Not many times in his life had Han Solo simultaneously known what having your heart stop in your chest felt like and nearly lost his composure about it, but that’s what happened when he saw Leia bumping into the buckethead and bouncing back, the black gloved fingers closing on her arm to stop her from losing her balance. Han had skidded to a halt and retraced his steps at the stormtrooper’s bark, forcing himself to slip his casual mask over his face, and fished out his fake ID, waiting as it was examined thoroughly. It was their own pictures, of course, but digitally retouched so that there were subtle, expertly added changes that would prevent them from being flagged and matched up with their real identities by a regular scan. It hadn’t been scanned, though, and he’d seemed to pass the stormtrooper’s visual examination.

Then, it was Leia’s turn. Han had counted the beats that passed—metaphorical, regularly-paced beats, not his own—stringing himself up to a quick draw the second the buckethead figured out who she was… But no; although they generally avoided putting themselves in situations that required a cover, those IDs had never failed them before.

The stormtrooper’s hand had lowered a millimeter, ready to give back the ID, and Han held back a breath of relief—

—and that was when, for the second time, Han had spotted the black Tooka, crossing their path just a few meters away as it chased after a smaller critter—

—then, when Han looked back at the stormtrooper, he had changed his mind, and was holding up the ID closer to his face.

_Kriffin’ buckets_. If only he could see the man’s face…

‘Wait a minute,’ the filtered voice said. Han had stolen a quick glance at Leia: behind her tightly controlled façade, he knew her mind would be working at top speed, making calculations, deciding on the next move, just like his. ‘Ain’t ya just a regular little princess?’

Han’s mind had already been made up: he would shoot him and get Leia far away from there, fast. He’d looked at Leia first, to silently communicate his next moves, but she had been already staring at him and the message was clear: _Wait_.

‘Is it you?’ the stormtrooper asked, curiosity seeping into the mechanical voice. Curiosity didn’t often precede ‘I’m taking you to Lord Vader’, but Han hadn’t lowered his guard. Thinking of what the soldier had said next still made him angry. It turned out Leia (or Leia’s modified ID picture) held some resemblance to a certain actress who tended to play the part of the princess in several R-rated holovids. Han had nearly punched the guy, but luckily Leia’s reaction was more graceful and they were let go shortly after.

They hadn’t made it too far into the city when it happened again: Han saw the black tail skirting around a corner and his spine stiffened on instinct, almost expecting something. It was instinct, too, what made him turn to Leia. She was looking at where the Loth-cat had been moments ago, peering through the rain from under her cloak—before Han could ask, she was chasing after it.

‘Leia!’ Han hissed before following her at a run, rounding the corner just in time to see her trip on the slippery street, stumbling several steps and landing on her bottom next to a sewer.

‘Are you okay?’ he asked, reaching down to pull her up. Leia winced and rubbed a hand over the back of her thigh.

Leia confirmed she wasn’t hurt and nothing was broken, surreptitiously checking the pocket where she kept the acquired datacard to find it still safely stored there.

‘Are you insane?’ Han asked then. ‘Why were you chasin’ after that cat?’

Leia straightened up and glared at him. ‘What are you talking about? What cat?’

Han opened his mouth to reply, but thunder cracked over their heads in that precise moment, and Leia yelled, ‘Let’s go find somewhere covered!’ as the drizzle became a downpour.

They found refuge on an alley, under a half-fallen, abandoned merchant’s stall. The roof had kept the floor dry, but it offered limited shelter: they had to huddle down together to escape the rain.

So, fair enough, they could have done a lot worse with the Imps, they could have lost the datacard, Leia could have broken a bone and a lot other horrible things could have happened, but as Han crouched next to Leia, he couldn’t stop thinking about the black cat. As a child in Corellia, he’d heard that it was bad luck if a black Tooka crossed your path. It was nothing more than a superstition, one that often led to cruel behaviour towards the poor felines. Han himself had never associated any good or bad luck he’d experienced to omens of any kind. But what were the odds of the same Tooka crossing their paths three times, and of the three sightings being followed by a complication?

He was in the middle of these thoughts when Leia said, ‘Han, look.’

Curling itself around a pole, the black Loth-cat meowed sorrowfully before stepping into their shelter. Han nearly jumped.

‘It’s that cat.’

‘What cat?’

‘The one you followed.’

Leia furrowed her brow in confusion. ‘I wasn’t following a _cat_. I thought I fe—saw something… rather, someone. I don’t know. It was nothing, probably.’

She seemed embarrassed and confused, two words not usually associated to Leia Organa. This just added to Han’s bad feeling. She _saw_ something that made her want to chase it, even though the only thing Han had seen had been the Loth-cat, and it led to her losing her footing? That was too much of a coincidence even for him.

‘There’s not enough space for you, I’m afraid,’ she said suddenly, kindly, to the creature. ‘You’ll have to look somewhere else.’

The Loth-cat looked at her with its beady eyes and rubbed itself against her leg.

‘Can’t kick it out now,’ Han said grumpily.

‘Why not?’

Now Han was the one embarrassed. What was wrong with him today? He did _not_ believe in luck and superstitions!

‘It’s, uh… folks in Corellia say it’s bad luck not to take in a black Tooka that… _chooses_ you. ‘Course that’s just stupid, but… well, look at the thing, where else it’s gonna go in this weather?’

His last word was punctuated by a flash of lightning followed another loud thunder. He shivered and silently cursed at himself for it.

‘Fine, you’re right. Come here, you,’ Leia said.

She crossed her legs, then patted at her lap. The cat approached her, sniffing at her and Han, before cautiously climbing onto her lap and curling up there. Leia smiled and scratched behind its ears.

‘I don’t like this cat,’ Han said moodily, glaring at the creature. Leia looked up at him like he’d gone mad.

‘You’re the one who said we should let it stay!’

‘Yeah, but I still don’t like it.’

‘Why not? You’re a sweetheart, aren’t you?’ she said to the Loth-cat, who was purring now.

‘It’s bad luck, that’s what it is. It crossed our path right before the Imp took a closer look at your ID, and then right before you fell on your ass—’

Leia snorted. ‘Crass,’ she muttered under her breath.

‘Right before this kriffin’ storm started, too,’ Han grumbled. ‘Bad luck’s all it’s brought so far.’

‘I don’t know what you’re on about, flyboy, but storms are not bad luck,’ Leia said, shaking her head and smiling to herself.

‘Not bad luck?’ Now it was Han’s turn to stare at her like she had lost her mind. ‘If it ain’t bad luck, we’d be on the _Falcon_ right now, not packed like sardines under this run-down stall!’

‘I know, I know, it’s just… I love storms,’ Leia said in a soft voice, almost like a confession. ‘Always have. It’s true they can be unpredictable and dangerous, but there’s still something calming about them, something beautiful—’

‘Well I hate ‘em,’ Han snapped. Storms weren’t beautiful for him. The sudden flashes of light that signalled the coming of bone-shuddering thunder; the heavy dropping of the rain hitting all kinds of surfaces, all at once; the forked shapes of lightning tearing the sky in half, with the power of burning you to the ground… that made him restless and nervous, not calm.

‘You know, it’s not my fault that we’re caught in this weather!,’ Leia snapped back, making Han turn to her. She looked angry, as if he had just insulted her, her jaw set and her eyes shooting sparks at him.

‘That’s not what I said!’

‘It’s not a _Tooka’s_ fault, either! I don’t even know how it’s supposed to work; it’s bad luck if we see it, and it’s bad luck if we don’t keep it around? And I thought you didn’t believe in this kind of _mumbo-jumbo_ —’

‘I don’t, alright? I don’t believe in it.’ Han rubbed a hand through his damp hair and groaned in frustration. He didn’t know what they were even fighting about, why he felt so antsy. Other than the storm, and the harbinger-of-doom Loth-cat, that was. He didn’t remember if both superstitions were from Corellia or somewhere else, or if they held up when you weren’t _on_ Corellia.

He looked at the Loth-cat asleep on Leia’s lap. Like a puzzle piece clicking into place, Han’s memories rearranged themselves into a new, clearer picture: the second superstition wasn’t about taking in a black Tooka that chose you to ward off bad luck. The saying went that you had to take in a black Tooka that chose you to have a happy marriage, or risk misery on you and your partner.

Han shivered again, mystified. What the hell did that mean, now, to them?

_Means nothing ‘cos it’s a dumb superstition. Get over it! You’re not even together and never will. You’re absolutely_ not _marrying Leia._

He glanced at Leia, then, who had grown silent. She had a far-off look as she stared at the stormy skies, her hand absent-mindedly stroking the Loth-cat. Her wet braids had become frizzy and her jumpsuit was stained with mud. She was bossy, infuriating, lofty… and fiery, determined, compassionate.

And not his wife, or anything of his, because he didn’t like her that way, and she didn’t like him, either. Never would, not a guy like him.

(He didn’t like women like _her_ , anyway. He didn’t like her. Didn’t like Leia. Didn’t like the way she cared about the galaxy at large, about an uprooted farm boy, a walking carpet and a self-centered smuggler, about a stray Tooka that had wandered into her lap. What was there to like about that?)

No—Han might be a gambler, but he didn't think black Tookas knew the first thing about luck, destiny or any of that crap. He didn't believe in fate anymore than he believed in the Force. There was no mystical energy field that controlled his destiny, and no damned cat neither.

Nor would a warm, storm-loving princess pressed against his side. That, he was sure of.


End file.
